


Seven Poems

by archea2



Series: Old Tales Twice Told [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Humor, M/M, Pastiche, Poetry, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 16:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archea2/pseuds/archea2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven poems celebrating Greg and Sherlock's love, all of them pastiches of classics. Slash, with one exception.</p><p>The original works are listed at the end, in case you want to try and deduce them first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Poems

1\. For God’s sake shut your gob and let me love,

Or go slag my IQ, or my team,

My grizzled hair or ruin’d self-esteem,

The improbable state, tell me that you’ll improve,

Get a job, find a wife,

Kiss your bro, mend your life,

Say what-fucking-not and, Christ, I’ll approve

So you will let me love.

\-------------------------------------------------

2\. OK, sunshine, snuggle under my arm

‘Coz I have news for you: I suck and you’re human.

Neither getting a day younger, and even you,

You marvel, one-of-a-kind, you hotshot,

You’ll burn out come midnight, same as us yokels.

The least I can do is hold you through the night,

The limp warm sum of breathing, living you,

Fucked-up and deadable, but to me

Beautiful. Yeah, beautiful. Full stop.

\--------------------------------------------------

3\. It is a young noseyparker

And he stoppeth one of three.

"Son, you are clearly a doper

Why don’t you just piss off?

\------

Here’s a crime scene a mile wide

Brimming with VIPs;

The corpse is set, the SOCOs met,

I've no time for social niceties."

\------

He holds him with his skinny hand,

"There was a clue," quoth he.

"Jesus! What part of "not in the gang"...?"

The DI’s hand falls limp.

\--------

He holds him with his glittering eye –

And Greg Lestrade stands still.

One thing he learnt as a DI:

If you can’t beat’em, hear'em out.

\--------

Might as well sit his arse for a lull

And the most fucked-up tale  _ever_ :

Who knew a bloody great seagull

Could wreak a homicidal spree?

\--------

The Inspector sat with the nerd,

Having no choice really;

But in the end he caught the bird

And shagged the informant.

\------------------------------------------

4\. _(This one is gen.)_

Twinkle twinkle little sleuth,

How I wonder when you deduce.

Up above us  ~~on a~~ so high,

 ~~Lucy in the~~  Like a diamond in the sky!

\-----

When the good ol’ sun is gone

(Just teasing you here, _sunny_ )

Then your brain goes all-alight

Twinkle twinkle all the night.

\------

And us plodders in the dark

Thank you for your little spark.

We couldn’t see which way to go

If you did not twinkle so.

\----------------------------------------

5\. Fact is, a sunrise in Dorset is a thing of magic.

It’s like – well, the sun makes the hills stretch off

And the grass green up, like it gives them a kick...

Or a nice morning snog. Like chemistry. Sort of.

But then, one day, the clouds will resurface

And it’s goodbye sunshine. Goodbye Sunshine.

And you never see that hard radiant face

Again, ‘coz it’s gone west in blood and brine.

Day starts like any day, any him-on-fire

And you all set out for your day in the sun,

And the next thing you know, he’s a fraud, a liar,

A headline in  _The Sun_. But whatever he’s done,

He’s still your all, your wall, your east - your fallen star.

\-----------------------------------------

6\. When you are old and grey, like yours truly,

And "on fire" means "forty-winks at the hearth

With the  _Universalis_ ", and you go, "Why on earth

Would I need spectacles, it’s not like I can’t see"

\------

No longer saying, "Not like I can't observe"

The way you did when the crowd cheered you on,

When you had it all, the looks, the vim, the nerve,

And I alone loved the sinner, not the icon.

\------

I’ll bend forward, you lazy sod, stoke the fire

So that it can murmur the wisdom of the bee,

Telling a blind tosser that some of us retire

From everything but love. Now fetch us some tea.

\--------------------------------

7\. There was a DI in a Yard

Whose hair once turned a suave lyard. (1)

"Little grey cells! At _last_!"

Cried a genius unsurpassed,  
  
And in his glee kissed him long and hard.

 

(1) lyard: streaked brown and grey

\---------------------------------

 

Original works:  
  
1\. John Donne, [The Canonization](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173353)  
2\. W. H. Auden, [Lay your sleeping head, my love](http://wonderingminstrels.blogspot.fr/2000/01/lay-your-sleeping-head-my-love-w-h.html)  
3\. S. T. Coleridge, [The Ancient Mariner](http://www.gutenberg.org/files/151/151-h/151-h.htm#2H_PART1)  
4\. Nursery rhyme, [Twinkle Twinkle Little Sta](http://www.kididdles.com/lyrics/t023.html)r  
5\. W. Shakespeare, [Sonnet 33](http://www.shakespeare-online.com/sonnets/33.html)  
6\. W. B. Yeats, [When You Are Old and Grey](http://www.potw.org/archive/potw12.html)  
7\. Edward Lear's [Limericks](http://www.poetry-online.org/limericks.htm)


End file.
